


Climbing Walls, Tumbling Words

by beardyswrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Massage, Nightmares, Poor Arthur, Prompt Fic, Protective Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardyswrites/pseuds/beardyswrites
Summary: “You couldn’t have come through the door like a normal person?”It was the first words Merlin heard, half hanging over the window sill with his legs dangling outside.Arthur stood in the doorway, tapping his foot.“I can explain,” Merlin gasped, scrambling over the ledge.(aka Arthur hasn’t been acting himself, and the guards outside his rooms tell Merlin he’s not to be disturbed.Naturally, Merlin’s bright idea is to climb the wall instead.)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 688





	Climbing Walls, Tumbling Words

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all the support for my last two Merthur fics!! I’m honestly amazed and so so happy. Hope you enjoy this one! xx It’s a little mix of canon and au stuff, just go with it haha.

“You couldn’t have come through the door like a normal person?”

It was the first words Merlin heard, half hanging over the window sill with his legs dangling outside.

Arthur stood in the doorway, tapping his foot.

“I can explain,” Merlin gasped, scrambling over the ledge.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Merlin swallowed; he didn’t miss the way Arthur’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat. “I was ... inspecting the walls.”

Arthur stared.

Merlin nodded fervently, frowning studiously. “Yes. Gotta ... gotta make sure these walls are sturdy. That they’re ... unclimbable. Wouldn’t want someone racing up the ledges and ... climbing in ...”

The silence stretched.

“Merlin, it’s after midnight.”

“Yes, and -” He stopped. Merlin blinked; once, twice. “You’re dressed.”

An exasperated eye roll. “I realise this might be shocking for you, Merlin, but I am quite capable of dressing myself.”

“It’s after midnight,” Merlin repeated.

“Yes, and?”

“You snuck out.”

“You’re one to talk.” Arthur nonchalantly tossed his coat onto the table. “Most of my subjects use the door like civilised people; you could use a lesson on propriety.”

Merlin seethed quietly, his magic flaring beneath his skin with the sharp burst of irritation. Arthur was deflecting, pushing him away again; skirting around the problem. “Nice try; the guards outside stopped me getting in,” he snapped, “and I couldn’t use the servant’s entrance because of _that_ chair so conveniently jammed against the door.” He shook his head. “I had to check you were alright.”

“I am the prince. I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Why?” Merlin demanded.

He wasn’t talking about Arthur’s feigned abhorrence to Merlin ordering him about, and they both knew it.

Arthur turned away. “I needed to clear my head.”

Merlin immediately understood. “Oh, Arthur,” he murmured. “Have the nightmares been troubling you again?”

The answering silence said it all.

Arthur had been closed up these past two days, snapping at the slightest thing. As Crown Prince, he had a monumental amount of pressure resting on his shoulders, most of which came from Uther’s expectations of him. Merlin had taken it in his stride, giving Arthur the chance to work through it himself.

Clearly, he had left him too long.

Swallowing thickly, Merlin carefully stepped closer. He reached out, lightly touching Arthur’s shoulder; he leaned into the touch.

There was something about the fall of night, of the pressing darkness; words tumbled far more easily beneath the light of the moon than the sun, as if the night were limitless, eternal, just as your thoughts were.

“I was worried,” Merlin said softly.

Arthur sighed quietly, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t your problem.”

“It is when you aren’t behaving like yourself. A wrackspurt could be eating your brains from the inside out.”

There was the hint of a smile. “Wrackspurts are fairy stories.”

“No, they’re not.”

There it was, the light, teasing tone Arthur needed to hear, coaxing him back. He chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

“Would you like me to stay?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s expression crumbled. Finally, he nodded.

They stood there in the firelight for a long moment. Merlin’s gaze flitted across Arthur’s face, trying to assess what he needed right in that moment. Eventually, he tugged gently at Arthur’s shirt; he couldn’t go to sleep like that. “May I?” he asked quietly.

Swallowing audibly, Arthur nodded again.

Merlin’s hands shook. He grabbed the bottom of Arthur’s tunic and lifted it; Arthur raised his arms without protest, and the white shirt easily came away.

The sight took Merlin’s breath away every time, his cheeks flushing.

But that wasn’t important now; he could see the rigid muscles from where he stood. Carefully moving around Arthur, he began to press against the hard planes across his back, massaging, working at the knots of tension beneath his hands. Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes closing as he hummed lowly.

Merlin carefully pushed some magic into his movements; not enough to be noticeable, but enough to make a difference. His heart beat a wild tattoo within his ribcage, touching Arthur like this, in this intimate space with no one else to see them.

As if hearing his thoughts, Arthur slowly turned to face him, blinking at him slowly, dazedly. “Merlin ...”

Merlin held his gaze. “Yeah?”

It was Arthur who looked away. He swallowed again. “It was about you, you know,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “This time.”

The silence stretched. Merlin gently took his hand, running his thumb across the knuckles, soothing him, letting him speak at his own pace.

“I dreamt my father found out about us - about _you_.” Arthur’s voice was a broken cry. “That he threw you in the dungeons; that he executed you, and forced me to watch.” He sniffled quietly. “And I just ... I wouldn’t be able to bear it, Merlin.”

Merlin’s heart clenched. Arthur went through periods of being plagued by night terrors, the stresses of his royal position weighing on his mind beyond his waking hours. The most tender moments, words, conversations - all were twisted into scenes of pure horror, tearing him apart from the inside. No one was safe in his mind.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Merlin whispered tenderly. He reached up with his other hand, cupping Arthur’s cheek. Reminding him that although it was awful, it was okay not to feel okay, and that he was there for him.

Arthur leaned his face into his palm, his eyes clouded, churning.

Merlin swallowed hard. Their faces were so close now. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving.” He smiled weakly. “It’s going to take a lot more than your father to keep me from you,” he said hoarsely.

_Not even the gods above could separate the two of us._

A choked sound burst from Arthur’s throat, and he surged forward, crashing his mouth against Merlin’s.

Merlin stumbled backwards with the sheer force of the kiss, but Arthur had him, gripping his waist, pulling him close again. He could feel the tears slipping down Arthur’s cheeks. It was ragged, desperate; matching Arthur’s fire with his own, he pushed back, pouring all his emotion into his movements. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, his hands reaching up to knot in Arthur’s hair.

Arthur whined deep in his throat, clutching at Merlin, never wanting to let him go, not for a moment longer than he had to. “Merlin,” he begged, the two of them pulling back for air.

Gasping, Merlin shook his head. “It’s alright. It’s alright, Arthur.” His hand shook as he brushed his thumb across Arthur’s cheek. “Shh.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur rasped, visibly trying to wrench his emotions back under control.

Merlin looked at him sternly. “Don’t ever apologise,” he whispered harshly. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s running through your head right now, it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you _human_.”

He slammed his mouth against Arthur’s again, kissing him desperately, hard enough to bruise, for one, two, three seconds. He swallowed, resting his forehead against Arthur’s. “Don’t ever forget that, alright?”

Closing his eyes again, Arthur nodded.

o-o-o-o-o

Eventually, they found themselves beneath the covers of the bed, Merlin’s back pressed to Arthur’s chest, the prince holding him as if he never wanted to let him go.

“What would I do without you, Merlin?” Arthur swallowed audibly in the quiet. “To think there was a time when I couldn’t stand the sight of you.”

“You’ve grown some brain cells since then, apparently.”

Arthur didn’t laugh. Instead, he nuzzled his face against his dark hair; it was his way of letting Merlin know that he felt _safe_. “I can’t lose you.”

Merlin felt Arthur’s breath on the bare skin of his shoulder, heard the muffled words against his skin; understood the hidden meaning, words both of them were too frightened to say. He shifted his hand, interlocking his fingers with Arthur’s, the prince’s arm slung over his torso. “We’ll figure this out,” he whispered. “Alright? We’ll take this one day at a time.”

A long silence.

“He said you’d enchanted me.”

Merlin snorted inelegantly, glancing back at Arthur. “Right, because I’m a siren, sent to this earth to enslave the heart of one royal prat.”

Arthur butted his shoulder with his head. “Your lack of intelligence notwithstanding, you do have other qualities,” he mumbled.

Merlin smiled, feeling the tension starting to seep out of Arthur’s body. “Such as ...? What? A dazzling smile? Irresistible charm?”

“Something like that.”

The words were softer now, slurred.

Smiling, Merlin called his magic to him, whispering the incantation he knew so well; one he kept for Arthur, and Arthur alone.

The embers of the dying hearth swirled into life, forming the shape of the Pendragon crest in the air above the mantle, the colours flickering; red and orange and yellow intertwining, casting shadows.

“Show off.”

Merlin grinned, finally hearing the smile in Arthur’s voice. He raised Arthur’s hand to his mouth, pressing a firm, tender kiss to his fingers. “We’re gonna make it,” he whispered. “I promise.”

There was only a soft snore in reply.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a prompt I saw - “Why didn’t you just use the door?” - and this just came together!! (and just shy of 1500 words!) It’s been a really cool chance to look at Merlin’s character, since my last two were focused quite heavily on Arthur. In my head, this one is kinda set around season 2-3, but of course that is also up to you as the reader.
> 
> Was listening to Louis Tomlinson’s I Miss You while writing this. Really helped for some reason? Got that inspiration going!!
> 
> ((Wrackspurts are. Yes. Another harry potter reference haha. Sorry not sorry.))
> 
> Thanks so so much for reading!! Feel free to leave kudos (it keeps me so motivated omg), and let me know down in the comments what you liked about it! :D xx


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